Ghosts are only people Confused by growing transparent. I had a great-grandmother who didn’t know She was a ghost for nearly a decade. Her hair grew gray, Then wirey-white, Then transparent limp-gray again. Her skin thinned Until that which marked what was part of her And what was the rest of the cosmos, Became indistinct And it barely mattered.
She lived in a time that had passed. She spoke to other ghosts And asked about the living. She had lost track of her time. When she finally died, Mostly it was a relief.
